Eyes Love You
by Zangai
Summary: Trowa has been harboring feelings for Quatre for the past three years. Now it may be too late to act upon them, as the 04 pilot is getting engaged.. But.. To whom? (3x4;1x2)
1. Chapter 1

-**Chapter One**-

Trowa glanced over a shoulder as the door to his apartment was thrown open with enough force that it when it hit the stopper, there was a rather pronounced spring-sound. He held back a sigh, only staring and blinking in greeting when the grinning Duo Maxwell entered, and made a mental note to keep the door locked and bolted from now on.

"Hey, Trowa," Duo spoke casually, leaning against the door frame and fiddling with the thin tie around his neck.

The Latin youth saw his friend was wearing another expensive suit-- courtesy of Quatre, no doubt. Aside from a physical growth (having gained an inch or so in height, as had his braid) Duo hadn't changed much in the three years since they had paid their final respects to their gundams. And one had a hard time believing that Duo owned tailored clothing.

As for Quatre...

The hinting of a smile graced his lips in memory. It had been nearly three months ago, at the annual Christmas-Eve party the blond held, that he'd seen him last. Of course they were good friends after all that had happened, even if it was more of a one way relationship; Quatre always ready to express himself and laugh sweetly, while Trowa seemed to merely exist in stoic silence alongside him and everything else in the world.

**xxx Flashback xxx**

Quatre had looked so happy that night at the party. It had been a small gathering of friends; normally, dinner engagements at the Winner mansion consisted of at least a hundred and fifty people. But that night it was just those they had fought alongside of over the years. A few drinks and everyone was caroling and feasting in the holiday spirit...

Well, maybe Wufei was trying too hard look dignified as he nibbled on an angel shaped sugar cookie, and Heero had fixed his death-glare on Noin when she suggested that he help her string popcorn for the tree's garland, but it was better then one would expect.

One of the perks of the evening had been when Duo had donned a red suit and white beard, playing the part of Santa Clause and insisting that everyone come sit on his lap and tell them what they wanted. Even the quiet pilot was amused when Duo-Clause had tried to force Wufei to take a seat and the Chinese man pulled out a knife, threatening to cut off Duo's braid if he attempted to put him through such an "injustice."

And where had Trowa been the entire time? Calmly seated away from most of the action, arms folded comfortably across his chest, expressionless features fixed on the happenings. He didn't need to be in the center of everything to feel as though he were part of it. This was where he was most content, letting his eyes take in everything, letting his eyes love Quatre, even if he appeared numb to those who knew him best and even if the Arabian youth had no idea as to what Trowa was thinking when he looked at him.

**xxx End Flashback xxx**

Trowa physically shook his head to break from his nostalgic state, having fixed a rather blank and glassy stare on Duo (although, given that Trowa tended to stare like that quite often, Duo hadn't taken any notice and was still chatting away). After a few moments, the green eyed pilot realized that his friend was going on about some sort of party that was being held this evening.

"Duo," he cut in softly, having to repeat himself a couple of times, as Duo was really getting into the story, "What are you talking about?"

Duo raised a brow. "Weren't you listening?" He crossed his arms, huffing indignantly. "I don't know -why- I bother with you sometimes, Trowa! Geez!"

Trowa fixed another one of his famous stares on Duo, one that the untrained eye would say was as blank as before. Duo, on the other hand, knew this one quite well. It was the Don't-Waste-Anymore-Of-The-Time-I-Could-Be-Using-To-Stare-Off-Into Space Look (actually, it was the Get-To-The-Point Look, but that's Duo for you).

The braided pilot rolled his eyes. "Uh, helloooooo, the dinner at Quatre's tonight to celebrate Relena's completion of the Terra Forming Project. How'd you forget? I gave you the invitation, like, two weeks ago."

How'd he forget indeed. Trowa knew he'd never miss one of Quatre's parties, which could only mean one thing. His eyes narrowed a bit. "You never gave me an invitation."

Duo blinked a few times before scratching his head thoughtfully. "Really? Oops!" was all he said, chuckling to himself.

Trowa was very nearly scowling at this point; it was times like these that he remembered why he appreciated the fact that Duo lived on Colony L2 and he himself lived on Earth.

"Hey now! No biggie, right, buddy?" Duo flashed his disarming grin as he went to the closet and began to rummage through the contents. "We'll just slap a suit on ya and head over; if we hurry, we won't even be late!... Geez, you got enough turtlenecks in here, Trowa? I mean, I know you like the look, but a t-shirt or two never killed--" Duo continued on, but the taller pilot had already tuned him out.

Trowa sighed deeply, although quietly, leaning against the door frame as he watched Duo tear apart his closet. The right corner of his lips curved up in a half-smile, hidden by his veil of dark hair.

It was going to be a long night... But one well worth it, once they finally did reach Quatre's; it had been too long since he'd had last seen his friends.

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So, eh.. How'd you like it? My first GW fic, heh, hope so far it isn't too bad.

-**Zangai**


	2. Chapter 2

-**Chapter Two**-

"We're heeeeeeeeeere!" Duo exclaimed, beeping the horn to announce their arrival to any and all who were around (which was only a few of the servants, since everyone else was either inside or were still on the way).

Hopping out of the vehicle, Trowa silently thanked who ever was listening for good traffic-- although he didn't want to be late, his gratitude was more from the fact that he hadn't been forced to sit too long in a car -alone- with Duo... Yes, the braided pilot did tend to lighten the mood and cheer up even Trowa, but the acrobat didn't know how much longer he could stand to listen to Duo recite every new and dirty joke he'd heard since they'd last spoke.

Duo tossed the car keys to one of the servants and headed for the front door, Trowa following a pace or so behind him, hands within the pockets of his slacks. It wasn't a thousand dollar suit, but he was dressed adequately.

After a good fifteen minutes of sorting and complaining back at Trowa's apartment, Duo had found a decent pair of slacks and a clean, pressed white dress shirt in the very back of the closet for the other teenager to wear. Honestly, Trowa didn't even know he owned the shirt, so it was a bit shocking to him as well.

"Allow me," Duo said, reaching over to press the doorbell. Both pilots stood quietly as they heard the faint chiming of electric bells from within the mansion.

Trowa held still, eyes focused on the tips of his black shoes as he waited to hear the sound of the locks being undone and the door opening.

Duo fidgeted from foot to foot, a hand straying up to pull at the tie around his neck for the second time that evening. "Never did like suits..." he muttered, not hearing anything to indicate that their arrival had been noted.

He leaned forward once more, pressing his index to the little white button and rang the doorbell again... And Trowa wasn't too surprised when Duo rang it again... and again.. and again and again and again andagainandagainand--

"Be careful you don't break it," Trowa warned quietly, as the other pilot happily hammered away at the button.

Duo grinned crookedly, waving away Trowa's words with his free hand. "Naaah, don't worry about a thing, Tro--" His words ended abruptly, as the door to the mansion swung open and a hand darted out, grabbing the front of the baka's shirt and hoisting him halfway through the door frame.

Chang Wufei's scowling visage was what the American was greeted with. He looked as though he had been in the middle of changing, his pale-blue shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, the cuffs folded up once. "I thought I told you -never- to ring the doorbell like that again, Maxwell," he practically growled, accenting his words with a small thrust of the fist clamped around Duo's clothes, effectively shaking him.

Duo flashed his biggest, cheesiest grin. "Ah, heh heh, must have slipped my mind."

Some things never did change. Trowa took a few steps closer to the door where this was taking place, getting a better view as he nodded to Wufei in greeting.

Wufei's vexed features softened only a little as he looked to the tall pilot, returning the nod with a short, 'Barton' before his onyx eyes went back down to Duo, releasing his shirt but not ending the lecture. "Slipped your mind? Ha! And you're supposed to be the honest one. We're all a little busy right now, so would it have killed you to have showed a some responsibility and taken a spare key when you--"

A mischievous light flickered in Duo's violet eyes as he interrupted. "Why.. Wufei.. Have you been.. Working out? It shows..." he purred, slipping a hand inside the Chinese man's opened shirt to pat his abdomen.

Trowa barely held back a wry grin at Wufei's reaction.

The Chinese pilot's jaw dropped in shock as he slapped Duo's hand away, quickly pulling each side of the shirt together and buttoning it up quicker then one would expect. "Maxwell! Can't you for once just humbly admit your wrongs, rather then making a complete show out of every--"

An evil smirk showed on Duo's lips, which was never a good sign for who it was targeted at. "Are you -blushing-, Wufei?"

Trowa patiently waited for Wufei to attack Duo. He was pretty sure his braided friend had gone too far by now, and he wasn't about to get in the middle of it.

Chang's eyes turned into angry little slits and his hands clenched (Duo all the while laughing like a hyena). Wufei only spoke one word, right before he swung at Duo. "Injustice."

"Hey, are you two fighting already?"

The three looked up, and saw a smiling Quatre at the top of the stairs. "This is a party! We're supposed to have a good time, remember?" he called down as he made his descent, laughing merrily at the two who were bickering; he couldn't see Trowa from his vantage point.

Trowa felt his breath disappear as it always did when Quatre was near. No outward change showed through his blank expression, but inside was another story. Despite all those years of training, his pulse increased and he felt that familiar, heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach. The innocent smile Quatre wore tugged harshly on Trowa's heart strings, even if no one would ever know it.

Duo's hands rested on his hips as he regarded the approaching blond. "Wufei started it," he explained.

The black haired man wouldn't even acknowledge Duo's attempt to start another battle as he instead turned away, carefully tucking the tail of his shirt into his pants.

Quatre only shook his head as his smile widened. "I swear, you two..." Astonishment danced across his face for a moment as his sea-green eyes locked onto the Latin, and in a second he laughed joyously. "You made it! Trowa!"

Had he have been another person, Trowa's cheeks might have been touched with a hint of pink, blushing at the heartfelt way Quatre greeted him. But, there was no returned smile or flush from pleasure- just the serious, stoic mask all had come to expect.

Aware that a response was needed, Trowa nodded as he had to Wufei. "Nice to see you again, Quat--" his words had begun on a level pitch, unwavering despite his own happiness until--

Quatre closed the gap between them, arms snaking around the taller pilot's slender form in a warm embrace.

"--tre," Trowa finished lamely, not daring to look down at the sweet blond hugging him, forcing himself not to sigh in content as he felt Quatre's head nestled under his chin, silky strands of gold tickling his neck. His gaze stayed focused on some point ahead of him, as though uncertain of what he was supposed to do now.

"I haven't seen you in months!" The Arabian's gentle words were filled with what sounded like an accusation.

_I'm sorry, I know... I've missed you as well_, was the thought that flashed through Trowa's mind; he said nothing instead, silence settling thickly over the four pilots present.

It didn't last long, however. Both Trowa and Quatre stumbled as Duo flung himself at them, arms circling to hug them both and squeeze the life outta their bodies. "Aww! GROUP HUG!" the braided one declared. "C'mon, join in Wufei! You'll like it!"

Wufei snorted, folding back the collar of his shirt and staring down the bridge of his nose at Maxwell as though he were a tiny bug before storming out of the room.

**Sometime Later**

"...And I'd just like to say on behalf of everyone present, congratulations!" Quatre finished, all raising their glasses in a toast to the guest of honor, the one and only Miss Relena Dorlain.

"Oh, thank you all so much for coming here, and thanks especially to you, Quatre, for holding this party for me," she said, smiling regally as she sipped from her champagne glass. "The Terra Forming Project was something that..."

Trowa easily blocked out the sound of Relena speaking, his gaze falling to his own glass filled with the bubbly liquid. The long table was full of guests: Noin, Milliardo, Lady Une, Sally Po... Others as well, some of whom he didn't recognize but was certain Relena or Quatre knew. Notably (and he was sure he wasn't the only one who'd realized this), Heero wasn't present.

He glanced up through strands of his brown hair before looking down once again, the buzzing in his ear alerting him that Relena was still going on about her work with the Terra Forming Project. The party was already dragging on terribly, and the main course hadn't even been served.

Ah.. But it had been worth it, just to hear Quatre say his name like that, to feel for a brief moment the smaller teenager's body near his... Trowa wondered if it were wrong to steal moments like those, keeping them locked away inside, to hoard over them like some dragon with a pile of gold.

Trowa put down his champagne as the plates of food were set in front of them, the short speech having ended some time ago. When he was through eating, he rested back in his chair, observing the others.

As expected, Duo was busy shoveling in as much as humanly possible- this just about ended disastrously as he inhaled a piece of carrot (literally) and started coughing rather distastefully. Of course, Wufei, being the "kind", "helpful" soul that he was, proceeded to solidly smack the long haired pilot on the back. This ended the problem, but also caused Duo to jolt the table, successfully knocking down more then one water glass.

But Quatre was an able host, easily smoothing over any angry feelings and bringing about a round of laughter, the care-free atmosphere taking over the room once more.

By now Trowa was outright staring at Quatre, not that he would notice. The 04 pilot was busy talking to Noin, both engaged in a heated conversation along with Relena and an older man, more then likely an officer from the Preventers.

He never grew tired of watching how even the simplest of topics that were close to Quatre's heart spurned a strong reaction from the blond. His docile features would express the different emotions he was trying to convey, his slender hands grasping the napkin across his lap as he almost defiantly tossed his head, trying to shake the golden fringe from his eyes.

Relena must have made some witty comment, for a second later the four were all laughing, and Quatre's sight slowly shifted from them, landing on Trowa.

Quatre's chuckles dwindled down to a friendly smile as their eyes met, the Arabian lifting his drink in a tiny salute directed solely at Trowa.

Uncrossing his arms from their normal position, Trowa reached for his own glass, returning the movement. It was the first time anyone had taken notice of the mute pilot throughout the entire meal.

Quatre tilted his head back, taking a sip before he set the drink down. His friend always looked so serious that it sometimes depressed him. Even as Relena and the other two resumed the conversation, he kept his attention to Trowa.

'Smile,' he mouthed silently, not expecting anything more then a clear, green stare, perhaps accompanied by a simple nod. He'd come to learn that his friend's smiles were as rare as they were flattering to his solemn expression.

Unable to control his own mouth it would seem, Trowa felt a tiny (but it was there) smile creep up on him. A closed-lip grin, he watched the incredibly pleased look he was returned with.

Suddenly feeling slightly out of breath, he bowed his head to stare at the "interesting" meal in front of him. He hoped he wasn't blushing- and all he'd done was smile for Quatre! It had happened in the past; Quatre -had- made Trowa smile before, it wasn't as though it were foreign to him. But somehow, it was different now. Feeling utterly foolish, remembering that Duo had once said that matters of the heart -were- that way, Trowa managed to peer up, wondering if Quatre was still watching.

Quatre's absence from the conversation had been realized by this time. Relena laid a hand on his arm, regaining his attention and drawing those breath taking sea-green eyes off Trowa and back into what was being said.

Just as quickly, Trowa's smile vanished, leaving any who had seen it to wonder if it had ever been there. The 03 pilot couldn't help the jealous feeling that gnawed at his stomach as he watched Noin share another laugh with Quatre. He wished...

And still, that stoic mask never fell as Trowa sat back in his chair, arms once again crossing as he waited for the party to end, not allowing a moment's time for silly hopes he wasn't brave enough to act upon.

**Later that Evening**

The air that rushed past him was cool against his face; Trowa stood on the balcony outside his room, the pale moon and starlight illuminating the courtyard beneath him.

The party had ended a few hours ago.

Having had more then a few drinks (and given the time), Duo had suggested that they spend the night at Quatre's, and leave in the morning like many of the other guests were doing.

Trowa hadn't argued; any extra time he could spend in Quatre's presence was welcome, and he allowed a brief smile as he stood alone. It had been a pleasant evening, as far as parties went.

He couldn't help but dwell upon the fact that this was where he felt most at ease. Not just here, on the balcony away from everyone. No... That feeling of peace came to him when he knew that his friends were near, that all he had to do was walk down the hall and knock on a door (probably the one leading to the kitchen) to find Duo or enter the library to find Quatre. This was where he felt at home.

Leaning over the railing, the tall youth rested his arms across it. He silently wondered if the others felt the same way, Duo hiding behind a carefree attitude, Wufei behind a sometimes arrogant facade. He didn't bother considering Heero; none of them could even begin to imagine what he was thinking, except maybe Duo (who certainly didn't like sharing that information if he -did- know).

They all knew that Quatre felt that way though. He never held back his feelings. He was fearless in that sense.

Trowa envied him for it, at the same time admiring him for it.

And of course that was why Trowa could never say anything. If Quatre had -ever- had feelings for Trowa that went past friendship, he was certain the blond would have found a way to show him.

But maybe now it was time to stun them all. Maybe it was time for him to announce his true feelings to Quatre. Time had passed, three years since the wars had ended... And yet, his heart had remained the same, utterly captivated by his Arabian friend.

What was the worst that could happen?

Quatre would be too embarrassed to speak to him again...

No; if anything, Quatre would be modestly flattered. Besides... Trowa felt as though he were dying whenever he was near Quatre. He knew he couldn't continue on like this, with that secret weighing him down.

There was nothing stopping him from coming out with the truth, accept his own cowardliness!

Tonight, he would confess, regardless of the consequences. Resolve strengthened, Trowa began to step back, with the thought to find Quatre before his nerve left him.

His eyes dropped to the ground below however, watching as someone walked out onto the grass, their perfect form outlined by the silvery light of the night sky.

Quatre...

Quiet laughter drifted upward, and Trowa smiled once more. So they would share the sky this evening, both admiring the view. Apart as they were, Trowa hardly felt alone.

A brow rose in mute questioning as when Quatre turned around, a hand held out and it looked as though he were beckoning to someone...

Relena stepped out into the yard.

Trowa watched in silence, unable to look away, the images burning themselves into his memory.

Relena's hand slipped into Quatre's, her own higher pitched laughter mixing with his as she moved closer, her head resting on his shoulder.

Quatre's arm circled her waist in a far too familiar way.

He could hear their hushed voices, the words weren't important.

Trowa watched in silence as Relena shared the night sky with Quatre, the sky that was flecked with too many stars to count, whose lights were now blurred together.

His emotional mask couldn't prevent the tears that burned his eyes.

**x**

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Hope you didn't see that one coming (Quatre & Relena), for all you new readers. o

-**Zangai**


	3. Chapter 3

-**Chapter Three**-

He very nearly sank to his knees when he saw Quatre holding Relena close, when he saw the sweet way she toyed with Quatre's short hair.

Trowa knew in his heart that it should have been him down there with Quatre, and yet he couldn't ignore the fact of the matter, that it was her, Relena Dorlain, who was embracing the one he had dared to love.

Turning his back on that vision before him, Trowa slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting against the railing. He felt physically as well as mentally ill- his head was reeling, even though he'd hardly had anything but water to drink.

If he had wanted a reason for not telling Quatre the truth, there it was as plain as daylight.

His chest hurt; it felt as though it were caving in on itself. It hurt more then it had when he'd forced himself to say nothing when Quatre had hugged him earlier that evening...

Trowa bowed his head, trembling hand rising to touch a cheek... He cringed when he saw the tips of those long fingers moist with tears... Had.. Had he been crying?

Louder laughter filtered upward.

He wished he were deaf.

"Hey, Trowa? Ya in here?"

Trowa's gaze shot up, the back of his hand swiping across his eyes to dry them. He really didn't need to deal with this, not now...

"Trowa? Hey, there you are! I just came to say g'night, buddy." Duo swaggered into the room, his cheerful demeanor only heightened by the drinks he'd had. "What're you doing on the floor...?"

The 03 pilot didn't respond as he stood, quickly stepping into the archway that separated the room and balcony. Luckily, Duo didn't notice anything was wrong... If the braided pilot had all his wits about him, he may have noticed the red rimming his friend's eyes, or the distraught look he wore.

Duo blinked, passing by Trowa to step out onto the balcony himself. "Wow! Look how big the moon is toni-- Whoa!"

Trowa winced, knowing what Duo had seen. "Duo.. Just come back in, leave them be."

Not listening, Duo put two fingers in his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle.

Quatre and Relena looked upward, Quatre blushing (although no one could really see it) and Relena letting out a shocked sort of yelp.

"Wooooooooo! 'Bout time you two started getting closer! I thought I'd be an old man by the time I caught you smoochin'!" Duo shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Trowa paled; did this mean Duo had -known- that Quatre and Relena were... He couldn't even bring himself to think the word.

Quatre laughed nervously, trying to make light of the situation. "Heh, guess you caught us, Duo."

"He didn't catch a thing! We were -not- kissing, I'll have you know, Duo. And if you spread any sort of rumors about us I swear--"

Trowa could hear Relena's upset voice carrying on from below, and he felt dizzy. Why couldn't it just -end- already?

"Okay, okay... Goodnight, Duo. Go to bed!" Quatre called, laughing easily despite Duo's embarrassing catcalls and other noises.

The 02 pilot chuckled to himself, stepping back inside the room. "Boy, I'll tell ya, those two always--" Duo stopped, finally taking notice of Trowa's odd attitude. His brows came together as he tilted his head, staring questioningly at the taller youth. "What's the matter? You seem kinda--"

Trowa walked to the door, opening it and glancing over a shoulder, soft words spoken with a surprising calm, despite his torn heart. "I think I'm a little hungry, Duo. Let's go get something to eat."

**xxx xxx**

"What's the news on Relena and Quatre?" Trowa asked, somehow managing to speak in a level pitch, giving no clue as to his inner sentiments.

Food was spread out before Duo. Mounds of it. All the leftovers from the party, practically. The braided youth was happily munching away, and paused mid-chew to speak. "Um... Well, they've been officially dating for about four months now, I think." Thus finished, or so he assumed, Duo dove back into the cold steak and potatoes.

Trowa crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter to hold his controlled look. He hadn't wanted any food. This was really just a way for him to sit Duo down and get him to explain. "How did it happen?" he asked quietly, not really wanting an answer, but knowing he needed one.

Duo took a swig out of his can of soda, thinking a second. "I guess it all started with the beginning of the Terra Forming Project. It was gonna be one of Relena's biggest career moves, really... You know, gain more trust, help broaden humanity's horizons..." He laughed, shrugging and taking another bite of food. "But you know what happened. Sponsors for the project bailed at the last minute, saying that they thought it was a risky venture. Don't you remember all the news about it?"

A small nod was given by Trowa in response. "Go on," he prompted, eyes downcast.

"So, there Relena was, poor damsel in distress," Duo snorted, picking up the remains of an apple pie and digging into it with a fork. "She sure knew how to work a crowd... All that crying. She turned it into a giant sob story. Gotta hand it to her, though, it was the best move to make in her position. Just didn't think that the new sponsor she'd nab would be ol' Quatre. You know what a sucker he is for people in need."

Duo chomped away, minutes later looking up. He had been waiting, as though expecting a comment from Trowa. Finding none forthcoming, he frowned a bit. "Hey, are you even listening?"

Trowa nodded, the faintest motion of his head.

Duo grinned, continuing. "Of course, you can imagine what the public thought about Quatre privately funding Relena's operation. Rumors were started about the two of them." Duo finished his soda. "You remember that, don't you? C'mon, I -know- you remember all the gossip."

Trowa sighed in frustration; he hadn't taken note of any of the things said about Quatre... He figured it had all been false accusations, started just so the newspapers could sell a printing or two. "..Yeah, sure."

"Not much to tell after that. Sometime during all of this, I guess the two decided that there was some truth to the rumors, and you saw 'um tonight. They haven't really been public about their relationship." Duo sat back in his chair, wiping his hands on a napkin, having finished his late night snack.

The Latin shook his head gently, trying to deny Duo's words. "But.. I thought Relena was in love with Heero."

Duo burst out laughing, quieting soon after. "Well, duh, she was, but that was going nowhere. Heero doesn't love anyone," he added, his words accented with what sounded almost like sadness.

Trowa didn't stop to question it though, too caught up in his own problems. So Relena had moved on with her life, like any normal person should do if they find that they are in love with someone who couldn't return the feelings. She had managed to do what Trowa never could do with Quatre.

"Do the others know?" Trowa asked, closing his eyes against the light in the room, the brightness burning his irritated eyes.

"Heero knows. I think Wufei must, since he's so involved with the Preventers and they make it their business to know everything that happens in Relena's life. -I- found out about a three weeks ago... I guess you were the only one left."

Trowa took a deep breath, somehow finding his voice to ask the last question. "Is it serious?"

Duo rose, hand coming behind his back as he arched forward, stretching out his tired muscles. "There's been talk of engagement, so I've heard. Really, I can't believe you didn't know about the two of them dating. Guess you're just not as sharp as you used to be in the old days, huh, buddy?" He playfully nudged Trowa in the side.

The tall youth didn't reply as he left the kitchen, fingers digging into his arms as he kept them crossed, not wanting his shaking hands to betray him. He couldn't ever remember feeling so miserable, and knew that he needed to be alone as quickly as possible.

Duo watched Trowa leave, scratching his head. "Prolly just tired, that's all," he told himself, leaving the mess for the servants to clean up in the morning as he retreated to his room.

Once there, he sighed loudly, kicking off his dress shoes and peering at the mirror above the dresser. He was still wearing that annoying/restricting suit.

Duo arched a brow, snickering at his own reflection. "Never did like suits," he muttered for the millionth time that evening, loosening the tie around his neck.

"You should try wearing them more often, they actually make you look mature--" came the monotone voice from behind and to Duo's left. Heero Yuy stepped out and into view.

Duo's grin nearly took in his ears; his happiness was apparent in his voice as well as he turned around to face the other. "Heero! Where were you? Oh, man! I--"

"--That is, until you open your mouth," the Japanese pilot finished.

Barely keeping a pout in check, Duo absently played with the end of his braid. He wasn't sure when Heero had begun to show signs of a sense of humor in the past three years, but he really didn't appreciate it. With his cold, even tone, most of the time Heero's 'jokes' sounded rather sarcastic.

Heero's eyes met with Duo's as he stepped closer, his hands carefully loosening the tie the rest of the way before pulling it up and over Duo's head. "Did you miss me?" he asked, slowly letting the chestnut braid slip thought the loop of the tie.

Duo looked away; he couldn't meet Heero's gaze. It was partially from the fact that their bodies were only five inches apart, and partially from the way Heero spoke to him. Even after so long, and even though the braided pilot knew him best, Duo couldn't tell if Heero was being sincere when he asked, or asking just to see what kind of an answer Duo would give.

"You know I did," Duo finally responded, uncharacteristically quiet and serious.

This last time, when Heero had disappeared again, he'd left on strained terms with Duo. The 02 pilot hadn't even been sure that he'd ever come back. Leave it to Heero to show up in his room out of the blue.

"Hn." A curled index settled under Duo's chin, and Heero gently tugged upward, tilting Duo's head back just a fraction.

The 02 pilot gladly inclined his head, lips parting as he waited for the kiss. He was at the other pilot's mercy, just as it always had been. Duo's arms slowly started to circle Heero's waist, and then there mouths were only centimeters apart...

This was the point when Heero broke free of that embrace, his back to Duo as he instead walked around the room.

Duo's eyes fluttered open; he hadn't even realized he'd closed them. This was what hurt the most though.

They only kissed if Heero was in the mood, they only touched if Heero felt like giving that much to Duo. God forbid Heero ever tell Duo where he'd been the past two weeks since they last seen one another. God forbid Heero ever explain to Duo why their 'relationship' was so fucked up.

Heero always did this; Duo only wondered why he'd thought it might be different now that he'd admitted to the 01 pilot that he was in love with him.

The American faced the mirror once more, studying his own reflection. He hated that he didn't know if Heero was only using him as a toy, or if Heero actually cared about him. He hated that he let Heero have this kind of control over him. He hated that he missed Heero. He hated that he had made the mistake of telling Heero that he loved him, because now Heero seemed to treat him even more distantly. He hated that he was always incredibly happy and incredibly depressed when Heero--

A warm touch drew him from his thoughts; Heero stood behind Duo, one of the Japanese pilot's hands resting on the other's stomach, pulling Duo back against the his chest. "Come to bed."

It wasn't exactly a request, but it wasn't spoken as an order, either.

Duo's eyes flickered to the reflection of the bed in the mirror; Heero had been busy preparing it, the pillows were no longer in the middle, but were on both sides, the covers were drawn back.

His gaze moved to look at Heero's reflection, and any hurt feelings vanished when he saw the tiny, unnoticeable smile (to the untrained eye) that had formed on his lover's lips.

Duo nodded, and Heero easily picked him up, carrying him over to the bed.

Oh yes, he was definitely at the other pilot's mercy, and it was times like these that he lived for.

**xxx xxx**

"Put that crap out!"

"Why? It'll kill me?" Heero asked, that faint, sarcastic inflection apparent in his otherwise monotone voice.

Duo scowled deeply, trying to show his displeasure as he snatched the cigarette from Heero's fingers, crushing it out in the ashtray on the night-stand. ( **1 )**

Face expressionless, as usual, Heero was semi-propped up in the bed with the few pillows, Duo more then happy to use his lover's lower-chest as a head rest.

Tired from the long night of dining, drinking, and other more private things in the bedroom, Duo let out a quiet sigh, arm snaking around Heero's waist as he closed his eyes, on the verge of drifting off.

"How are the others?" Heero asked, voice cutting off Duo's retreat to the dream world.

Duo managed to lift one heavy lid, violet eye watching as Heero fingered the tip of his braid, his other hand braced against Duo's back, holding him almost protectively (so Duo liked to think) closer. "Eh.. Same old same old..." He chuckled. "Trowa found out about Quatre and Relena tonight."

"Hn?" Heero actually sounded mildly interested.

"Yeah, we talked for awhile. I filled him in and all..." Duo paused, thinking a minute. "Now that I think about it, he seemed kinda shaken up for someone like him. I was gonna ask him about it, but he didn't really wanna talk anymore, and I was ready to go ta bed."

"Shaken up?" the other echoed, the questioning way he spoke indicating that Duo was to elaborate.

Duo shrugged, tugging the covers up around his shoulders before settling against Heero once more. "I dunno. Guess it was just a big shock to him, since he didn't expect it and all. Don't know why he was so bothered by it though."

"Hn."

Duo's brow furrowed when he heard Heero make that noise. The way he made it was the way he often did it when he knew something that someone else didn't. "Whaddya mean, 'Hn'?" Shifting, he turned so that he could look at Heero. Damn the other pilot's unreadable expressions! "If you know something I don't, spill it! Or I'll--"

"You sound like a gossiping old woman," came Heero's astute observation.

Ignoring the insult, Duo puckered out his lower lip pathetically. "Please tell me?"

Never missing a blink, Heero reached over and turned off the solo lamp illuminating the room. "Goodnight."

"Fine. Be that way," Duo sulked, pulling away from Heero and yanking out his pillow from beneath the other youth. Satisfaction was found when he heard a faint grunt of annoyance from his counterpart. Duo scooted over to the opposite side of the bed, hoping to further prove his anger as he distanced himself.

Heero simply laid in a prone position, knowing that Duo would get over it.

He was right, of course. A good minute and a half later, Duo crawled across the bed to where Heero was, cold body snuggling closer for warmth (that's what Duo assured himself, at least).

Obligingly, Heero rolled over, letting Duo lay in his embrace, the smaller American's body a perfect match to his.

" 'Night Heero," Duo mumbled.

**x**

**x**

**x**

* * *

**1 -**Eh.. I don't know how many of you feel about it, but I can easily picture Heero smoking... Sooo.

Well, if you like what you've read, please review! I enjoy the feedback! o

-**Zangai**


	4. Chapter 4

-**Chapter Four**-

Boring. Repetative. Mind numbingly redundant.

Trowa sighed as he held the styrophome cup under the machine, watching as it was filled with the dark liquid.

"How long does it take you to make a cup of coffee!" the woman in a business suit asked rudely.

Trowa didn't flinch as the comments continued, carefully putting the plastic lid on the cup and turning around. He did give himself the pleasure of fixing a good glare as he held the cup out. Emerald orb narrowing in on the lady, his face a perfect blank, Trowa smiled inwardly at the reaction he received.

The woman paled, mouth opening and closing a few times as no sound came out, though she collected herself quickly as she handed him the appropriate amount for the drink. "Hmph."

Trowa put the money in the register, his movements mechanical, his face expressionless- he looked like a robot (or Duo had so kindly informed him once) playing the part of an employee.

The scent of warmed sweetbreads and foreign coffees filled the air, enticing customers to come in each time the door was opened-- a quaint little cafe, it was nothing compared to the job he'd had in the circus. But, he'd needed to get away from all that. Yes, he did care for Cathy, but... There was no one explanation he'd been able to give his sister when she'd tearfully asked why he was packing his things and leaving to live in some crummy apartment in the city, on** Earth** no less... Sometimes, a person just needed to follow his instincts.. And Trowa's had told him it was time to try a different life now that the war was over, one he'd never known before.

He remained silent as he went about his task, putting a blueberry muffin in a bag and getting the next customer in line a cappuccino. Two years in a low salary, low maintenance, zero respect job. The exact opposite of what he had done for most of his past. Even if the customers were rude, all in all, the normalcy of his new life was something he welcomed, and enjoyed. Though, given his usual melancholy aura, one would be hard pressed to see that.

Sighing as he put the last man's payment into the register, Trowa sounded far from enthusiastic as he spoke to the next in line. "Yes, what can I get you?"

". . .Trowa?"

Trowa blinked, eyes widening as he took a step back, shocked, to say the least. It had been almost two weeks since the night of the party...

**xxx Flashback xxx**

Trowa curled his hands into tight fists, nails biting into his palms- physical pain was easier to accept then this.

There wasn't much he'd needed to do before leaving, save for fixing up his room and grabbing his jacket. It was too much to have to think about here, under Quatre's roof, knowing -she- was with the blond pilot.

And, the worst part was, Trowa couldn't even find reason to hate Relena for what she'd done... She hadn't done anything wrong, that was the problem! In reality, he despised himself for having been so foolish as to actually entertain thoughts that--

". . .Trowa?"

He tensed at the sound of that voice, like a child who'd been caught doing something wrong. Trowa's back was to the other; it gave him a moment to make sure any trace of inner turmoil was gone when he turned around to face Quatre.

Trowa said nothing- he didn't trust himself enough to try speaking.

"What are you doing out here? It's late..." Quatre sounded worried.

The taller youth swallowed hard. Quatre was wearing a red bathrobe over a pair of flannel pants and top, a bottled water in hand... He didn't look like a well-off businessman, and with the concerned look he wore, he seemed even younger.

The blond's brows drew together as he came closer, realizing why Trowa was downstairs at this hour. "You.. You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?" Concerned features shifted to obvious hurt.

"I need to go home. I can't sleep," Trowa explained, his answer short, detached. He wouldn't finish the sentance... He couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes, he could only see what had happened in the courtyard.

"That's not an excuse!" Quatre was almost shouting. "We're supposed to be friends- We rarely see each other as it is, and you were ready to walk out in the middle of the night. I don't suppose you even had the decency to write a note."

Trowa didn't know what to say; not only had his dreams been completely crushed, but now he'd managed to put further strain on their friendship. He took another step back- it was almost impossible to make Quatre lose his temper. Yet somehow he'd done it, when all he truly wanted was to hold the other pilot and have his feelings returned.

Quatre was just standing in front of him, waiting for some sort of answer.. No.. Those beautiful, aqua eyes were demanding another explanation from him.

"...My cab will be here soon." Trowa's tone never wavered, his 'uncaring' features never changing. He knew it was a mistake the moment the words passed his lips, but it was too late to take them back.

Deeply wounded by Trowa's callous reply, Quatre's shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "I thought things were different now- we all promised to stick together after everything. I know it's not as easy for you or Heero or Wufei as it is for Duo or me, but..." He raised a hand helplessly.

"Quatre... It's just--" Trowa began, knowing something should be said, that he couldn't leave again without patching up at least this part of things.

"Oh, Quatre! Hurry, the movie's starting, I put it on pause for now--" Relena came into the room, wearing only a silken nightshirt and thin, cotton bathrobe ontop. She cut herself off when she saw Trowa standing there, a hand rising to her collar.

Quatre's gaze shifted from the tall pilot to Relena, then back, as did Trowa's.

The Latin's jaw clenched. Unable to fully control his feelings further, the raw emotions were visible in his eyes.

Confusion.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Quatre read it clearly, and his expression changed to one of guilt. "Trowa, I--"

The taxi's horn honking from outside interrupted him. Without pausing, Trowa turned and left, not even so much as saying goodbye.

**xxx End Flashback xxx**

"Wow, I had no idea that you worked here, what a surprise," chimed the sweet voice, belonging to the only one who could make the distant 03 pilot weak in the knees. "I mean.. I knew you lived in the city, but I didn't.." Quatre seemed to be stumbling through his words, an unusual trait for the normally eloquent speaker. He nervously toyed with one of the buttons on the blazer he wore.

Trowa nodded faintly, picking up on the sound of strained ease to Quatre's voice. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who still remembered that night.

A second of awkward silence passed between the two, Trowa wisely avoiding eye contact as he instead stared down at the counter, Quatre trying to hold a smile though he was rapidly failing.

"..Can I get you something?" Trowa asked quickly, hearing the shuffling of the other people in line. If he hadn't looked up, Quatre might have just ordered and left, and that would have been the end of it.. Try as he may, his will power wasn't strong enough, and his eyes flickered up.

Quatre's phoney smile fell instantly, his voice lowering. "Trowa, I.. I'm glad I ran into you like this... Please, I really need to talk to you."

Trowa almost trembled-- he was in less and less control of himself every time he was around the other. His friend's voice was full of pleading desperation, and it effected him more than he'd expected.

Not understanding the expression that briefly rippled over Trowa's face, Quatre assumed he wasn't going to get through to his friend. The blond leaned closer, pressed against the counter. "Please, Trowa, I'm--"

"I'm due for a break in five minutes. Have a seat until then," Trowa's soft voice cut him off.

Nodding his agreement to Trowa's words, Quatre made his way to the back of the cafe, taking a seat in one of the booths.

As the minutes passed, and Trowa tried to focus on what he was doing, he found that his gaze kept straying to Quatre. The blond was sitting so solemnly... His hands were folded over one another on the table, his head bowed... Trowa sighed deeply- it would be so much easier if he hadn't ever admitted (to himself) that he had feelings for the other.

Removing the tacky green apron he was forced to wear, and motioning for the other employee to take his spot, Trowa filled a cup with coffee, adding the sugar and cream. He moved toward the table his friend was seated at, placing the steaming drink down before Quatre and taking a seat across from him.

"Thanks." The blond slid the cup closer, as if he meant to take a sip-- he didn't.

The tension was thick enough to choke a person. Trowa couldn't remember a time when it had ever felt like this to be near his friend, and worse, he didn't know what to say.

"Trowa, I'm so sorry," Quatre said unexpectedly, gently.

Those few simple words, so full of sympathy, made Trowa's stomach clench in icy fear. Quatre knew! Somehow, he had figured it out.. Oh God.. And now he was going to try to console him, to somehow save Trowa from losing all of his dignity in this sort of "rejection." The 03 pilot's heart pounded painfully-- at least now it was out, and he wouldn't have to--

Quatre's remorseful words interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sorry that I never told you about my relationship with Relena. I didn't mean to betray our friendship like that, or for you to find out like you did... I spoke to Duo, he told me... It was wrong of me to not confide in you earlier, especially considering how much I criticize you on your 'friendship etiquette'."

Relief eased the hastened beating of his heart-- Quatre **didn't** know then!

But, this was wrong. Though they were friends, good friends, Quatre had no more of an obligation to tell of his 'personal' life than Trowa did to tell of his intimate feelings towards the other. What Quatre had interpreted as a hurt friend's actions went so much deeper than that; Trowa was selfish. "Quatre, you don't have to apologize," he began, his voice steady, calm, "My reaction was utterly childish, the result of too much champagne," he concluded, the lie rolling glibly off his tongue.

Quatre smiled sadly, head lifting to regard Trowa with a heartfelt look. "No, there is no excuse for what I did." He reached across the table, laying a hand on Trowa's forearm. "There I was, accusing you of not caring enough, when in truth, it was I who was careless! If I had found out you were seeing someone we both knew, and that you never told me about it, I'd be devastated... I care about you, Trowa, you know that, right?"

It was an innocent touch, a friend offering physical contact to enhance his sincerity.. Trowa wanted nothing more than to reciprocate it, to lay his own hand over the irrisistable blond's, to quickly, before the mood was broken, whisper his secret. He wanted to say something meaningful, something striking!

He couldn't. Quatre didn't mean his words the way Trowa would. "Of course," he replied, monotonously. "Honestly, Quatre, it's alright; think no more of what happened."

Despite his lack-luster efforts, the Latin was rewarded with a sweet moment of Quatre's laughter. Giving the other's arm a quick squeeze, Quatre withdrew his hand, leaving that lingering, fading, feeling of warmth where it had been. "I do want you to know-- I didn't mean to keep it from you. It's just that, whenever we were alone, it was always the furthest thing from my mind."

Trowa somehow forced a dim smile, wishing there was more behind the words of that statement... His crushed hopes were too painful, too recent to simply bury and forget... But.. He would have to.. to learn..

Vision straying toward the work counter, the employee who'd taken his place gave him a pointed look. "...I have to get back to work."

Quatre nodded, rising with his untasted coffee in hand. "Okay."

The Latin started to turn away.

"Trowa..."

He halted, cool green eyes glancing over a shoulder. "Yes?"

The 04 pilot's demeanor had changed dramatically. He seemed unsure, almost.. shy. "There's still so much more I'd like to say to you..."

Trowa turned back around, facing Quatre, ignoring the fact that he'd probably be reprimanded later for extra time he was taking on his break. "Yes?" he repeated, reserved voice showing more encouragement than normal. He was too easily caught up in those sea-green eyes of his dearest...

"Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? There's this wonderful restaurant, not too far from here..."

Even if it would never... He could indulge in his longings... And when Quatre was standing so close to him, acting so..

It was easy to forget.

"I'd like that," Trowa replied softly.

Smiling brightly at the acceptance, Quatre waved goodby, promising to call with the time and directions later on.

Trowa stood there, unmoving, until the other youth had vanished from his sight. Only then, when even the afterimage of Quatre's smile had faded, did he slowly, mechanically make his way back behind the counter.

Methodically, as he tended to each customer, he thought over what had been said.

They would be alone, tonight. Quatre had specifically asked him to meet where they would be by themselves, undisturbed by the other aspects of their lives. Undisturbed by other people, friends or...

Trowa knew, in his heart, that there was nothing deeper to read from any of this.

But.

He could.. pretend...

Nothing would ever justify it.

But if only for a moment, to just. . .

**x**

**x**

**x**

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Thank you guys for supporting this lazy author! o

-**Zangai**


	5. Chapter 5

******- Chapter 5 -**

The poignant scent of the wet asphalt was thick in the air, as was the humidity, and Trowa was glad he hadn't bothered to buy a suit jacket to put over the same white shirt and slacks he'd worn to Quatre's last party (and was wearing tonight). Already, he could feel the moisture collecting on his skin, an uncommonly sticky sort of night for the aftermath of an early spring shower.

**  
**

After receiving the the message from Quatre relaying the location and time they were to meet for dinner, Trowa had opted to walk to the restaurant. Certainly, he could have taken a taxi, but with the idea that the fresh air would do him good and help arrange his thoughts, the tall youth had gone on foot.

**  
**

It wasn't that he regretted the decision as he rounded the corner, the bistro now in sight. But, he couldn't help wondering if the muggy air had only further clouded his mind, and as he absently brushed off the condensation that had gathered on his upper lip, he momentarily considered calling Quatre and asking for a rain check.

**  
**

Standing outside of the restaurant, the exiting patrons brushing by his stationary form without a glance, Trowa looked up at the overcast sky, took a deep breath, then entered. There was a reason for this dinner, he shouldn't forget that. Quatre **wanted **to talk to him. Just him. And that thought alone was enough to get him to go up to the hostess and calmly ask where Mr. Quatre Raberba Winner's table was this evening.

**  
**

The hostess gave him an odd look, questioning whether or not Mr. Winner really was expecting Trowa, but after disappearing to check, she returned all grins and dulcet tones, leading the 03 pilot into the main dining area and directing him to where Quatre waited.

**  
**

Quatre was sitting alone at a table far larger than two young men needed, positioned out of the way of the general flow of the traffic of people, obviously the seating reserved for citizens of renown (as was Quatre's league). The blond peered over the top of the menu he'd been glimpsing at, finding Trowa and smiling widely, even going as far as to offer a wave in welcoming.

**  
**

Trowa gave a bittersweet sigh; he could easily envision more evenings such as this one, meeting his Arabian companion for dinner, and having those eyes solely on himself. It was.. It was nice to know that Quatre was waiting for him, was happy to see him, and enjoyed his company, even if nothing more would ever come of any of this.

**  
**

He would have liked to sit next to the object of his unrequited love, as the younger couples within the restaurant had situated themselves, but that would have been pointless. Trowa sat across from Quatre instead, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum; their incessant swirling wouldn't help anyone.

**  
**

After taking a seat, exchanging greetings, and then giving their orders to the waiter that would be serving them, the two were able to speak freely.

**  
**

Trowa assumed Quatre would jump a conversation relaying the circumstances that had lead up to his and Relena's relationship, perhaps filling in the missing times between the rare instances they were alone together.

**  
**

An afternoon spent scrutinizing the meaning behind this call for a meal together had led Trowa to deduce that would be the topic of choice tonight. It truly didn't matter if he didn't want it to be so; facts were facts. What else could have Quatre left unsaid between them?

**  
**

He was surprised then, when that wasn't the initial topic of conversation.

**  
**

"Sometimes.. Well, often times, actually, I think about the wars," Quatre started tentatively, gaze averted as he lifted the bottle of wine that sat on the table between them, filling Trowa's glass and then his own. "It feels like an eternity ago, when I reminisce. When it's the one thing not on my mind, it's different. I'll see something, or smell something, or someone will say something to trigger a memory... In those moments, it feels like it ended only a few days ago... And of course, there are other times when it all feels like it was all a long, sad, tired dream."

**  
**

Trowa remained silent, watching Quatre's pale hands against the glass of wine and the barely perceptible movements of the other's throat as he swallowed an ample portion of the crimson liquid, watching the rise and fall of his companion's chest beneath the rich, black lapels of his dinner jacket. Only when the blond had set his own glass down did Trowa lift his and drink deeply.

**  
**

There was an unquestionable note of controlled sorrow in Quatre's words, and for the life of him, Trowa didn't know how to react.. But he would certainly try. "That's all it is, to the new generation- an echo of the past," he finally replied.

**  
**

"True," Quatre agreed, smiling faintly. "I'd always wondered what it would be like when that time came when people would look back on everything like the old, faded pages of a history book... Granted, that's not exactly the case yet, but I think we notice that sentiment more, and have felt it growing stronger."

**  
**

The silence between them was interrupted only by the soft murmuring of the other conversations going on around them, of other couples or parties enjoying their meal. Quatre's eyes remained fixated on the lace patterns adorning the table-cloth as he took another draught of his drink, Trowa's own gaze still evenly resting on the former, mimicking the movement and drinking more of his own wine.

**  
**

"I..." Trowa began, cautiously ending his words before he'd finished the statement. He hadn't exactly meant to voice his thoughts, or more accurately, the memories that had surfaced when he looked upon Quatre.

**  
**

"Yes?" Quatre prompted eagerly, obviously hoping that Trowa would continue. Giving the other a chance to speak, he once again lifted the bottle of wine, refilling their already drained glasses.

**  
**

"I was remembering the first time we met," the Latin finished softly. When he saw that Quatre was regarding him with a smile brighter and warmer than the sun, Trowa was powerless to stop his own lips from curving gently upward.

**  
**

"You surrendered to me!" Quatre teased amiably, the endearing smile turning into something of a cheeky grin.

**  
**

Quatre had no idea as to how many levels Trowa's mind could have taken that comment, and the 03 pilot cleared his throat, once more reminding himself that it was wise to recall everything he knew about Quatre and Relena, and to not forget his place.

**  
**

"I know," was the only calm response that Trowa offered. He could have said more, about how thankful he was, to this day, that he had, or about how much that moment had altered his existence, but he didn't.

**  
**

There was a pause as their salads were brought out, and as they ate, slowly the conversation drifted to more mundane things, Quatre picking up the slack in speech as Trowa was more content just to hear him... Winner Enterprises, the Winner sisters, the economy, art, music...

**  
**

By the time the main course was brought out, the two gentlemen had finished the first bottle of wine, and ordered another. Quatre also removed his suit jacket, finding that the restaurant air was stuffy, a result of the weather, Trowa pointed out, feeling a bit more talkative...

**  
**

When the plates were cleared away, Quatre ordered a third bottle, as they had finished the last quicker than expected, and Trowa briefly tried to recall which of them had suggested they each move down a chair, so that they could carry on their conversation easier, side by side...

**  
**

As their desert was placed before them, Trowa absently ate a forkful of the flaky, creamy pastry, hardly tasting it; it was difficult to find anything else enjoyable when the pressure of Quatre's leg was pressed pleasantly against his own as the blond leaned in to grab the now half-empty bottle of wine, and topped off their glasses.

**  
**

"But, you know..." Quatre said seriously, after having a good laugh at something trivial. "We're getting old, all of us... Nineteen isn't old to most people, but... We aren't most people. And, you know, one thing you learn from everything is that.. You can't let things unfold for themselves. Every second counts."

**  
**

"Every second counts. Every last one, Trowa," the blond repeated, brows drawn together as though he were thinking quite hard about his words.

**  
**

"Every second," the Latin echoed, blinking slowly as his sights returned to the plate in front of him, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead.

**  
**

"The engagement party is next month, and I haven't sent out invitations yet... Relena's upset with me," Quatre said sadly.

**  
**

Trowa felt his breath hitch in his throat at those words, the icy lump in his gut almost instantly killing every trace of the euphoria that the alcohol had induced, leaving him with just the other side-effects, such as a slowed response time. "What... What do you mean?"

**  
**

"She's right, you know," the 04 pilot went on, talking more to himself than his companion. "We've worked together for two years now, and we've known each other long before then..."

**  
**

The brown haired youth's mind stubbornly refused to process anything beyond one word. _Engagement_. Trowa swallowed thickly, trying to regain his senses. Duo had said dating... and talk of engagement. Not **actual **engagement...

**  
**

Quatre's voice dully registered, and Trowa spoke the first response that came to mind, anything that could deny the reasoning behind this. "I've known you longer." His voice was low, hiding his turmoil.

**  
**

"Our connection is different from what Relena's is to me.. It's very different," Quatre responded, a hand resting on Trowa's leg as he turned to face his friend squarely. "Most people only take their time getting engaged because they don't know the person. And Relena's right, we've known each other long enough."

**  
**

It was all Trowa could do to not push the innocent hand off his thigh, to flee from a touch that was killing him. "We.. We aren't _most_ people," he insisted in a voice constricted.

**  
**

Quatre seemed not to notice as he shook his head. "Relena's sweet, and intelligent..." The blond's brows drew together once more, his sea-green eyes clouded by what Trowa would have called doubt, if not for his own desire to see it there.

**  
**

Wanting something this terribly, wanting it with all his heart, all of his being... Simply _wanting_ something wouldn't make it so.

**  
**

"It's a good match, isn't it?" Quatre's fingers moved slightly, curving around Trowa's inner thigh as he leaned closer, trying to capture the brunette's averted gaze.

**  
**

Trowa wanted to say no, and with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, he might have even shouted it. But as his emerald eyes found Quatre's, he couldn't.

**  
**

Quatre was his friend, first and foremost.

**  
**

And now he understood why the other youth had asked him to come here tonight, why the other pilot was staring at him like this, why he felt the blond's hand trembling against his leg.

**  
**

Quatre sought his friend's blessing.

**  
**

And Trowa knew that he couldn't do anything, but offer it, unconditionally.

**  
**

"Yes," Trowa whispered, looking down at the angelic features of his fair friend, storing his grief for another time, another place.

**  
**

The Arabian hesitated, eyes searching Trowa's expression for a second longer before he gave a shaky smile. Grabbing the edge of the table, Quatre pushed himself up, standing on wobbling legs. Apparently, he held his drink worse than Trowa. "Be right back.. I've got to.. to use the restroom, and.. I think we have to leave," he said, walking in the appropriate direction.

**  
**

Trowa gave a fleeting look around the restaurant- they were one of the only two couples remaining, and already the busboys were clearing tables, preparing to clean the room once it was vacated.

**  
**

He stood slowly, testing his balance and finding it better than expected. Just as he was pushing in his seat, the hostess approached him, smiling politely.

**  
**

"I think it's best if you accompany Mr. Winner home, sir. He's not feeling well," Trowa arched a wry brow at her tactful choice of words, "And we don't want any accidents."

**  
**

That translated to the restaurant's fear that someone would snap a picture of Quatre falling face down, drunk, outside of the establishment, and that sort of news tended to make headlines, a prime example of bad publicity.

**  
**

Trowa nodded mutely, cautious steps bringing him to the desk where Quatre had paid, and was now unsuccessfully trying to slip his credit card back into one of the leather slits in his wallet. Carefully taking the items from the teetering blond's hands, Trowa put the card in its rightful place and slid the wallet into Quatre's pocket.

**  
**

Ignoring the other's protests to being "a perfectly able and capable citizen," Trowa then looped an arm around Quatre's slender waist, and walked out with him.

**  
**

It was too much to think right then; if he let himself think, Trowa was positive he wouldn't like where his mind went with things.

**  
**

Numb to the warm, smaller form that curled against his own as they moved down the sidewalk, trying his best to tune out the soft spoken ramblings of his equally (if not more so) inebriated companion, he instead focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and nothing else.

**  
**

Blind to the environment, it wasn't until one of Quatre's cool hands patted his cheek that Trowa even remembered why he'd physically walked Quatre out of the restaurant to begin with.

**  
**

"Trowa, this isn't my house," the shorter teen murmured, eyes squinting as he looked up at the building that loomed before them, Trowa's apartment complex.

**  
**

"We'll call one of your drivers when we get inside."

**  
**

That made sense, and Quatre nodded with a vacant smile before he promptly doubled over, his body rejecting the alcohol (along with the night's dinner) onto the grass.

**  
**

Trowa would never be entirely sure how he and Quatre managed to make it up the three flights of stairs but they did it.

**  
**

Inside the apartment, little more than two rooms that went from living room to bedroom, a nook in the far right making the kitchen and a small bathroom that could have doubled for a closet near the entrance, Quatre curled up on the couch, head resting back against the cushions.

**  
**

Retrieving the phone, Trowa set the cordless unit onto Quatre's lap before he went to the bathroom, to give the other some privacy as well as to clean himself up some. He cringed when he saw his reflection; alcohol and stress had given him a ghastly pale appearance, and he looked as though he hadn't slept for a week. Letting out a shuddering sigh, Trowa cupped his hands beneath the faucet, gathering water and pressing his weary face into it, still refusing to give way to barrel of emotions he'd put a mental stopper on.

**  
**

Drying off on a towel, Trowa re-entered the living room, expecting to find Quatre either on the phone or having just finished the call. He didn't expect to find Quatre laying lengthwise on his sofa, arms beneath his head and feet tucked in, out like a light.

**  
**

A heart-stopping, beautiful, _engaged_ light.

**  
**

He moved to shake the other awake, but as his hand came to rest on the delicate curve of a shoulder, Trowa knew he wouldn't. Still operating under the pretense of not thinking past the mechanical motions of existing, he slid his arms beneath Quatre, scooping him up and carrying him to the bedroom, where he placed the blond on his carefully made bed. Easing off the dress shoes, Trowa placed his friend's footwear at the base of the bed before he opened a drawer, pulling out a spare blanket and covering the youth in front of him.

**  
**

Only when he was satisfied that Quatre was comfortable, that the night was over for all intents and purposes, did Trowa press against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the floor, legs drawn in and his eyes glued to the slumbering form.

**  
**

Only then did he allow his misery to blossom, and allowed his head to fall forward, brow pressed against the arms he draped over his knees.

**  
**

Three years he'd had, three years since the wars had ended, since the young pilots had been given the freedom to pursue their own lives, with obligation to no one. That long, and he hadn't said a word, hadn't hinted anything...

**  
**

Trowa closed his eyes, willing himself to listen for Quatre's rhythmic inhales and exhales, finding them and matching the gentle pace with his own breathing.

**  
**

His head lifted and he studied the sleeping pilot on his bed, his breathing still matched with that of the other pilot. Things might have turned out different, if he'd been braver... More than likely, it wouldn't have, but regret was a horrid fiend to have to face in the dark of the night.

**  
**

How often had he wondered what it would be like, to find Quatre in his bed in the morning? How many nights had he been kept awake by that very thought, and other ones that were far less decent? How many times had he imagined what it would feel like to fall asleep with another body against his own..?

**  
**

Not another body.

**  
**

Quatre's.

**  
**

The next thought that flashed through the 03 pilot's mind was shameful enough that he felt his cheeks burn in the dark, and yet, he was already kneeling, hands pressed against the mattress, eyes trained on the steadily rising and falling, covered body. With feline grace, Trowa eased one knee up, the bed dipping slightly from his weight.

**  
**

His heart beat a painful, guilty tempo against his chest as he moved slowly so as not to disturb the other pilot; breathing that had once been timed with his beloved's now came in short, quick intakes as he drew near.

**  
**

He was close... So close that he could make out the lines of Quatre's face by the street light that leaked in through the window, so close that he could feel the warmth of his companion's frame, a warmth that he longed to share.

**  
**

It would be innocent. They had both been drinking, and Quatre wouldn't think anything of finding that he'd shared a bed with Trowa when he woke the next morning.

**  
**

Eliminating the gap between them, the length of his body but a hands-breadth away from Quatre's, Trowa brought a lithe arm up, slowly lowering it so that he could embrace him, at the same time trying to keep his will from faltering.

**  
**

Why shouldn't he allow himself this small comfort? No one would get hurt from it, and it wouldn't change anything, and...

**  
**

This wouldn't change anything.

**  
**

Trowa would still be the one with the aching heart, and Quatre would still be the one engaged to Relena.

**  
**

And he didn't want to have to steal a bit of Heaven in order to know what it felt like.

**  
**

He retracted his loathsome arm, moving away with enough care that Quatre would still remain none-the-wiser. It took far less time to leave the side of his loved one than it had to position himself there, and without delay, Trowa retraced his steps back to the living room.

**  
**

It was better to suffer on the couch than to wake in the morning to find his angel gone.

**x  
**

**x  
**

**x  
**

**  
**

**

* * *

**

Ohh.. We're drawing to the end of the story, I think... Maybe another two/three chapters?

I haven't decided how this will end for Trowa. I'm into sad endings, but Trowa is my favorite...

Feedback is much appreciated!

**- Zangai**


	6. Chapter 6

**- Chapter Six -**

It was raining the afternoon of the engagement party held some three weeks later- a fitting atmosphere for the day's occasion, despite any cliché overtones, in Trowa's opinion.

It wasn't even a sorrowful weeping of the clouds, no, the rain that poured down was accompanied by angry winds that tore and shoved at a person, the icy raindrops beating against bodies like a thousand tiny fists.

While fur wrapped women and older gentleman in uniform scurried across the parking-lot huddled under umbrellas and voicing their complaints about the merciless weather, Trowa marched forward, head bowed, his hair quickly soaked, as had been his shoes and the long trench coat he wore.

There wasn't any way of avoiding this event. Excuses wouldn't have been valid in the eyes of Quatre.

More than that.. This was.. This was something he had to see through till the end, no matter how difficult it may be. Trowa had to witness this for himself, to fully accept that he wouldn't ever have the chance with Quatre that he so desperately wished for.

In a sad, pathetic sense, this was his way of finding closure to a relationship that had never had the chance to bloom.

As Trowa reached the entrance and stepped inside, removing his coat and half-heartedly attempting to adjust his hair, he swallowed thickly, realizing how out of place he was in a hall full of light hearts and well wishes.

Three weeks ago he'd walked into a restaurant to meet Quatre, a lingering shred of hope buried under strict logic. Now he weaved through a crowd of people he hardly knew or didn't recognize at all, knowing that he would bid his friend a final farewell before the night ended.

He crossed his arms as he pressed forward, pausing to take a deep breath before he dared approach the table he'd be sharing with a few other guests, more than likely the three other pilots.

His final farewell, to Quatre. It was strange, to think of it like that as he took a seat at the empty table, a quick scan of the large room alerting him that Wufei was already there, though he was busy discussing something with a few other men similarly dressed in Preventers uniforms.

Everyone here.. Quatre's sisters and Relena's brother.. All the fancy ladies in their extravagant gowns and pearl necklaces, the men in their fine suits, the gold chains of pocket-watches swinging at their hips.. Everyone present, all of them... They would see Quatre and Relena again, as husband and wife.

Trowa wouldn't be able to bear the sight of it, the happy smiles, the clasped hands, the matching rings.

It would drive him insane, surely it would.

The tall pilot leaned back in his chair, holding his crossed arms a little more tightly against the growing ache his heart swelled with, bowing his head as he fought to retain his emotionless disposition.

The slightest thought of the reality that would soon come into being already upset him to this extent. Trowa gave a small, bitter smile for his own benefit, not caring to imagine what his state would be once it **did** come to pass.

He'd been so sure, after all this time, that his last good-bye to his blond friend would be at his own death, not like this, in this place, in this time... Not under these circumstances...

"Yo! Trowa!" a familiar hand patted his shoulder, and a second later Duo hopped into the chair adjacent to his, wearing a wide grin, another fancy suit, and holding a tray that looked as though it were one of the many that the servants milling about carried, especially seeing that it was covered in an assortment of mini-foods.

Duo flashed him an odd look (though considering he was the one who'd stolen an appetizer tray...), violet eyes scanning the length of the pale 03 pilot's forlorn form. "You didn't walk here, did you, Trowa?"

"I forgot my umbrella, and crossing the lot without it..." Trowa said quietly, lifting a shaking hand and gesturing to his damp clothing.

"And you're shivering! Man, just be glad Quatre didn't see you yet, he'd have a fit," Duo shook his head, rocking back to balance on two legs of his chair and popping a deep-fried piece of something into his mouth.

"I'll survive, I've lived through worse." Trowa bowed his head once more, eyes half-closing. He would survive this, unquestionably; he simply hoped it was true that time would dull the hurt.

Giving a shrug, Duo lifted the oversized platter and held it before his friend. "Interested in a stuffed mushroom?"

They were interrupted before Trowa had a chance to level a gaze on Duo that would have spoke magnitudes in the declining response area.

"Maxwell, you have exactly three minutes to return that tray of appetizers to the kitchen," Wufei came to stand behind the two, arms and back straight, wearing an expression of absolute annoyance.

Scowling at the command, the braided pilot pulled the platter back from where he'd been offering it. "Who died and made you king of the party?"

"Preventer Noin and Preventer Po, if you really want to know. They thought it would be a good idea to have myself and the other officers present double as security guards for the occasion, to prevent the entry of unwanted guests..." the Chinese man's eyes narrowed, "And stop disruptions before they escalated into full blown affairs."

Huffing, Duo slouched to his feet with the tray in hand. "Fine," he sulked, starting back towards the kitchen door.

Wufei grinned in a self-satisfied manner, once Duo had made it halfway through without incident, but he quickly abandoned the look when the American glanced back over a shoulder, smirked, and proceeded to balance the large, round tray on his head with one hand, dodging guests with more agility than most would have attributed him.

"It's nice to see you again, Barton. Perhaps we can talk later," Chang said stiffly as he darted away to retrieve Duo and the platter of food and properly escort them back where they belonged.

Trowa didn't answer as he lapsed back into his veritably catatonic state, absorbed in his own thoughts as he closed his eyes against all the people and the horrible, varying shades of pink decorations.

Maybe it was time to go home. Earth hadn't delivered anymore than he'd expected it to, and Cathy and the circus were what his battered spirit longed for. His position with the L3 circus would always be available- the ring leader had yet to find a soul who could handle the lions as well as Trowa had, or a soul willing to face Cathy's daggers day in and day out.

Shifting his body in the chair so that he might better see the happenings of the entire area, Trowa sighed, mentally wrestling himself out of an entirely introverted state. No recognizable faces had joined the others since he'd last checked.

Forcing himself to keep an indifferent eye on the transpirings so as not to be caught totally unawares should he be approached again, Trowa mulled over thoughts of L3.

No questions would be asked, if he did choose to return; Cathy would just be glad to have him back. She'd be happy to fall once more into the ritualistic routines their existence had been comprised of before Trowa had left, and he'd be grateful to comply. The familiarity of the life he'd led on the colony was what he needed.

Trowa exhaled a lasting sigh, green eyes shutting on their own accord, vainly trying to block out the image that they had just absorbed.

He'd have given anything to be under the spotlight and under his painted mask, if it would have saved him from having to witness Quatre and Relena entering the grand hall together to a wave of encouraging applause.

**XxxxXxxxX**

The engagement party, while boasting some of the best dishes of Japan and an open bar, was severely lacking in the entertainment department.

Duo heaved a disheartened sigh, rocking and balancing on two of the legs of his chair (once again), arms hooked over the back as he stared up at the white ceiling that had a wide array of pink streamers tacked to it.

The band/musicians that had been hired for the party continued playing on with their dull melodies, most definitely not the sort of thing once could dance to.

And even if one (being Duo) **did** want to dance... Well, it wasn't as though there were a huge choice of partners. The vast majority of the guest list had included men and women who were far past their prime or far too young to be of any use to the braided man.

There was no doubt in Duo's mind as to who was responsible for how boring this party was turning out to be- a roll of his eyes had him looking yet again to the main table where Relena (and Quatre) sat, surrounded by a bunch of military and political personnel. He'd gotten in one, maybe two, words in edgewise, if that, and the rest of Quatre's time had been wasted on people he and Relena knew as a couple.

Duo leaned forward, bringing all four of his chair legs back to the ground as he looked to Trowa. The guy was acting like a very agitated cat, the way he was sitting there, arms folded tightly, green eyes darting and more often than not fixated on Quatre.

He'd spent the entire time sitting there like that, even when Une had come over to invite both the 02 and 03 pilot to have a drink with her. Trowa had actually **snapped** at Duo when he'd tried to convince him to come along. Talk about strange.

Certainly, Quatre and Trowa's friendship was something Duo didn't think for a second he could compete with (nor would he want to), but it wouldn't have killed the taller man to loosen up and make nice.

And Wufei? The young Preventer hadn't even sat down at the table for his meal, and was probably busy thwarting underage kids' attempts at sneaking a drink when their grandparents backs were turned.

Kids these days. They honestly didn't know the first thing about plotting and conducting illegal, or at the very least immoral, activities. The tricks of the trade were inaccessible to the children of well-to-do, upstanding citizens, such as the ones present at the party.

Duo, on the other hand, had learned all there was to know and then some in his youth. A wry grin twisted his features rather devilishly as a hand sought his blazer jacket, returning before him with a long knife.

It wasn't as though he'd wanted to take it from Wufei, but the Chinese pilot had been so damn arrogant, and therefore, had it coming. Besides, it would liven things up a fraction when Wufei finally did realize his knife was missing and that Duo had taken if off his person without him noticing.

Casually, Duo flipped the knife into the air before him, watching as it lazily turned hilt over blade before he caught it once more, only to send it back up to repeat the process.

**XxxxXxxxX**

Someone called for a toast and all around glasses were raised high.

Trowa didn't raise his.

He was willing to forego his own happiness for the sake of Quatre's, but that didn't mean that he had to wish longevity and vitality to Miss. Relena. Considering that his toast would be tainted with selfish, undying longing, it would have probably negated the purpose of lifting his drink to the woman anyway.

Trowa caught a flash of silver, and he moved slowly to face the source.

Duo was toying with a dagger- no, a fighting knife that Trowa had seen Wufei use on more than one occasion.

His mind returned to thoughts of L3 and Cathy.

The knife somersaulted in the air.

If he did go home, he might be able to forget, or at least learn to accept things for what they were.

Duo swiped, hand wrapping around the hilt of the blade.

Trowa shifted in his seat so that he could view the unattainable. Would he really want to forget everything? Granted, nothing had turned out like he'd wanted, or even pragmatically thought it would...

But, if given a choice, would he **want** to forget?

A glimmer of silver danced upward in his peripheral vision.

Would he want to forget **how** Quatre made him feel?

The movement of the braided pilot catching the knife flickered in the corner of his eye.

Would he want to forget that Quatre had **made** him feel?

The knife spun into the air again.

Trowa swallowed hard and lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should probably step outside for some fresh air, but he didn't want to stand and have people watching him leave, he didn't want to have to deal with the chattering, small crowd of those who'd gone outside to have a cigarette.

Duo caught the descending knife.

More than anything, he was afraid that if he went outside he'd keep going.

And he had to see this through till the end.

The knife was tossed up.

Trowa straightened, though he didn't look at the other when he spoke in a dangerously low voice. "Stop. It's distracting."

**XxxxXxxxX**

What a bundle of joy Trowa was proving to be.

Duo caught the knife deftly, and almost flicked it up again just to see what his irritable friend would do. Almost.

He didn't solely for the fact that Trowa sounded far too serious to chance bothering. But just because he was in a bad mood didn't mean that he was allowed to be so rude.

And so, to protest his ill-treatment, Duo frowned, shoved his chair back, and stormed off to find a different table. Of course, this was doing Trowa an incredible service, but Duo unintentionally overlooked that fact.

There were a few tables that had empty seats. However, he opted not to sit at those particular places, as they were in-between various guests who didn't look like anyone Duo cared to get to know. They also didn't look like the type of people who'd care to have a knife-juggling teenager sitting with them, so it worked out for all involved when Duo instead chose the one empty, unset table in the far back of the room.

Just as Duo had taken a seat and gotten comfortable, he felt light fingertips delving through the base of his braid to brush across the back of his neck, a touch that knew exactly how to send a shiver down the 02 pilot's spine.

Grinding his teeth to ward off any more unwelcome responses from his body, Duo frowned. "I should have known you were here the whole time, lurking in the shadows," he grumbled, poking at the table with the tip of Wufei's knife.

Sliding into the chair next to his partner, Heero grunted as he placed his untested glass of champagne on the table before him, though he seemed more interested in looking at the crowded room than at Duo. "Hn."

"No 'Hi, dear,' or even a 'Hey everybody, here I am!' or anything. Not for Heero Yuy, ladies and gentlemen," Duo continued to grumble on, stabbing at the edge of the table with renewed vigor when his better-half gave him the cold shoulder.

Pressing a hand over that of the complaining youth's, Heero maintained contact for a few moments before he settled once more into his own personal space, retracting his touch along with the knife. "I was under the assumption that flashy entrances and exits were **your** specialty," he explained coolly.

Duo snorted, watching as Heero set the knife down beside the drink on the table-top and then following his lover's line of sight to see that the Japanese man was viewing Trowa with more than a passing interest.

"You know, all night Trowa's been staring off into space or at Quatre, you're here and all you're doing is hiding and spying on Trowa from what I can see, and here I am, watching at you like.. like some hungry mutt waiting for a scrap. And who's watching Duo? Not a damn soul. And that's just unfair," the American said angrily.

Heero arched a wry brow, though he didn't move from his position or look at Duo when he spoke again. "What, are you demanding my attention?"

Duo blinked, not quite having expected that question from the other. "Well.. Yeah," his reply stumbled forth, his words devoid of all their previous ire.

Seeming to nod to himself, though at what exactly was hard to say, Heero shifted his body before taking hold of Duo's chair and pulling it to his own so that no distance, however slight, remained between them. With an arm braced across the back of Duo's chair, he leaned in so that he was eye to eye with his lover.

Duo's surprise at this sort of reaction was clearly painted across his features. His wide-eyed gaze shot down to the hard line of Heero's mouth before leveling once more. "Heh.. And here I'd always thought you meant it when you said you didn't like public displays of affection..." Granted, they **were** in the very back of the room, and Quatre was now standing at the front as he prepared to make some sort of speech, thereby drawing any potential attention away from them, but still.

Heero kept quiet a few seconds longer as he stared hard. "Hn." His free hand moved to the other pilot's waist, curving around the sharp dip of one of Duo's hips, eliciting a sound of agreeability from his counterpart. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

Draping an arm around Heero's shoulders to better angle his own body against the surprisingly intimate touches of the Japanese youth, Duo gave a soft, nervous laugh, partially from Heero's uncustomary behavior and from the question presented. "I say lots of things to you."

"Do you remember when you said you loved me?"

**XxxxXxxxX**

Had any of the ideas, plans, or inner thoughts of his been worth listening to?

He'd acknowledged his feelings for Quatre, feelings that betrayed the boundaries friendship established. That had only made him undergo a long lasting session of self-reflection to sort through the barrage of emotions that he'd never considered or even knew existed within himself.

Conflicted with what course he was meant to take as a result, he had eventually come to the conclusion that admission to Quatre was the only means through which he'd find relief. That plan had been terminated the moment he'd seen Relena with Quatre.

And now, he'd sworn he'd see this through till the end, regardless of how it effected him. Quatre deserved his support, deserved to believe that his friend was happy for him.

And this resolve was eating away at him from the inside out, though thankfully, none were any wiser when they looked upon the seemingly unmoved pilot.

Trowa couldn't tear his gaze away from what was happening before him, even if he'd wanted to, at this point.

Quatre stood before the entire room as one of the hired musicians hurriedly placed a microphone and stand before him, and with a slight twist of the on switch, the blond's words would be carried so that everyone could hear him, as did all of the youngest Winner's sisters, some of whom were blowing their noses as tears of joy for their brother overflowed.

Those who didn't want to hear the future groom's speech, such as Trowa, were forced to bear their discomfort in silence.

Silence.. That was the route of all his troubles, wasn't it?

"It's no surprise, why all of you are here, is it?" Quatre started, speaking into the microphone. "At least, it shouldn't be, if you received the invitations inviting you to join us here today. If you didn't get an invitation, and you're still here, I suppose I ought to invest a bit into a new training program for the Preventers."

A soft round of laughs followed the blond's joke, as the security had been top notch, thanks to Wufei and the other men/women in uniform present.

Trowa swallowed hard, finding no relief past the huge lump that had formed in his throat and refused to dissipate.

In silence, he'd fallen in love with Quatre, and in silence he'd kept his secret, trying to deny it to himself before he'd succumbed to the truth, only to live in silent longing.

**XxxxXxxxX**

Duo's limber movements and complying frame all but froze up like a block of ice when Heero said that. It wasn't that he didn't remember, it was that it was something of a huge, gigantic shock to hear his Japanese partner say it like that. Maybe it was all the talk of engagement/marriage that had been floating around the room the entire night, or maybe it was all the pink and heart shaped decorations.

Heero frowned faintly, his hand tightening it's hold on Duo's hip as he started to repeat the question. "Do you remem-"

"Of course I do, you just surprised me by bringing it up, that's all," the 02 pilot admitted, his mouth drying as he felt nervousness prickling throughout his system. "You didn't particularly take to well to it when I said it last, you know." He couldn't help the hurt that his words were laced with- it wasn't every day that you're abandoned and left to wonder if your lover-boy (aka Heero) was ever going to show face again or if he'd been scared off for good by the "L" word.

He didn't have long to wallow in the memories of those shaky weeks, because Heero's mouth was suddenly pressed to his. With a soft, unchecked moan, Duo's lips were yielding to his lover's, parting in familiarity and anticipation of the warm, moist intrusion of Heero's tongue, and Quatre's voice became just a dull buzz in the background.

The braided youth felt Heero's hand traveling up his torso and then higher, a thumb petting at his cheek momentarily before abating. His eyes blinked open when Heero drew back an inch so that their foreheads were nearly touching, their lips close enough that he practically felt the Japanese pilot's words when he spoke gravely. "Did you mean it, Duo?"

The serious look in Heero's steel gaze was impossible to miss, and realization struck Duo just as it surely shook off any stupor that may have been derived from that heady kiss. Heero wanted.. confirmation! Aww, he always knew the man was insecure about lots of things (this being one of them) deep down. "I don't lie, I meant it then and I mean it now. I love ya, Yuy."

Though a 'you silly goose,' might have been fun to tack onto the end of that, Duo decided that maybe now wasn't the time to kid around... Besides, he didn't want to lighten the mood; he liked where this was going. Without further ado, the American's mouth had dipped lower to find Heero's neck and begin an exploration that would involve a healthy combination of kisses, nibbles, and licks.

He therefore didn't notice when Heero looked once more to where Trowa sat, or catch the low question that followed. "Is it enough, though?"

He also didn't notice when Heero's hand closed over the hilt of Wufei's knife.

**XxxxXxxxX**

"Relena and I felt.. We felt that it was the right time to make a decision of this magnitude, and that we were both prepared for this," the 04 pilot took a slight pause in his speech, eyes slowly roaming over the guests present. "And though all of you already know, we thought it would only be proper if I made an official announcement tonight, in front of everyone."

This was it, this was the conclusion. Trowa didn't even realize he was holding his breath, didn't feel his hands clinging painfully to his folded arms.

In silence, he had fallen in love with Quatre. And in silence, he would lose him.

"And so, I'm proud to announce that today, officially, Relena and I are-"

Their eyes met, and the blond faltered in his polished, pre-chosen words.

And with every fiber of his being, trapped in a cocoon of silence he had forced himself into, Trowa willed Quatre not to continue.

Not that it would actually change the course of things. Their gaze broke, and Quatre cleared his throat. "Relena and I are-"

Though Trowa's silent pleas had remained unnoticed, Duo's scream of pain was ample interruption to stop the Arabian pilot from finishing that phrase.

**x**

**x**

**x**

* * *

Wow.. That was a quick update for me. 

See how much reviews motivate the author?

Thank you, everybody, for all the reviews! They seriously made me insanely happy.

Next chapter will be the last one, and I still don't know what kind of an ending Trowa is going to get. I'll have to sleep on it a little more.

Remember, the review button is there for a reason.

**-Zangai**


	7. Chapter 7

- **Chapter Seven** -

That cloying, sterile scent, mingling with the faint odor of cool, clean plastics and paper, the soft whispering of mobile beds being wheeled through the white corridors...

Trowa didn't like hospitals any more than the other pilots, and yet, here he was, standing in a fixed position against the far wall of the common waiting room, arms crossed and head bowed...

The past hour's events had been hectic, and there didn't seem to be any definite end to the day in sight. Only now, after things had finally calmed down, was the young man free to breath deeply, to dispel the last traces of adrenaline, born from despair, that had coursed unchecked through his veins, thrummed and dominated his entire being before the.. disruption.

Duo's uncanny shout of pain had led to the discovery that the dexterous pilot had obviously lost a bit of his edge- the knife that had been taxing Trowa's spent patience was lodged firmly in the American's thigh, testament to a missed catch.

Trowa's entire world had been spinning off axis and threatening to dislodge whatever control he'd been able to maintain given his position; he'd been torturing himself, sitting there at the table in a masochistic silence; he'd been so sure Quatre would speak the words that would severe his heart... And in one moment, because of one miscalculation on the part of Duo...

He wasn't sure if he was obligated to burst into the recovery room where the braided youth had been sent after his wounds had been tended, kowtowing in a blatant display of gratitude, or if it was more appropriate to throttle his comrade. If Duo had just behaved as was expected at such an event, if he'd just sat quietly, like everyone else and listened to the engagement speech, Trowa could be on a shuttle bound for L3, energy focused upon repairing his damaged emotions and frayed remnants of heart, learning to once more bury feelings he clearly wasn't meant to experience. His internal demise at the party was proof enough of **that **fact.

Duo's accident, all it had done was prolong the inevitable, once more. Quatre had been one of the first to rush to the back of the grand hall, and upon finding his injured friend, he'd called a halt to all proceedings of the evening.

There had been something of a panic when guests found out that someone had been hurt- within seconds, women were swearing up and down they'd seen the poor boy attacked, men were certain that they'd spotted a few shifty characters in the crowd. Thankfully, Wufei had kept his cool despite his findings, and gotten Duo whisked out on one of the stretchers of the Preventers medical unit while the rest of his subordinates calmed the nervous guests.

Shell-shocked at the interruption, and at what it signified, Trowa had been pretty much immobile, and would have likely been left to depart with the rest of the hall's occupants who were trickling slowly towards the exit, if not for the smaller, warm hand that grasped his own firmly and tugged him to his feet with a deceptive strength- Quatre had led him to the car that would carry the two of them to the hospital, trailing after the ambulance. Neither had spoken a word the entire ride, Quatre too full of worry and Trowa still not trusting himself enough to say anything, though some part of his mind remained acutely aware of the proximity of the blond's body to his own, in the backseat of the nondescript vehicle; a limousine pulling up in front of a hospital would have been far too conspicuous.

Trowa shifted his stance, crossed arms seeming to writhe before settling once again as his gaze lingered over the few other occupants of the waiting room. Quatre had disappeared upon their arrival, which wasn't surprising, and he'd been left to his own devices.

He looked to the large, round clock that hung on the wall just over the nurse's station before looking towards the nurse who actually sat there, behind her desk. This was probably the twentieth time he'd given her that look- unwavering, calculating, a face as expressionless as the wall behind him. The nurse was supposed to inform him of when he could go in to see Duo- thanks to Preventer influence, Duo was allowed to have visitors quicker than most.

All Trowa wanted to do was stop in to check on Duo and then leave, to go home and pack. There was no way he would sit through another engagement party- he'd leave tonight, if things wrapped up at the hospital soon enough. Whenever it was that Relena rescheduled for the party, he wouldn't return for it. Once his feet touched the artificial soil, he was certain his roots would gladly welcome the familiar territory of L3 and anchor him down for the remainder of his days.

Relena... In some small part at the very back of his mind, he felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. It wasn't every day that one held an engagement party, and though he himself had been wishing something drastic, extraordinary would happen to stall or stop the events, he didn't take pleasure in knowing that her day had been ruined. He'd heard her calling after Quatre as they ran off, hand in hand, breaking through the crowd to get to their ride. Quatre hadn't even glanced back- he'd only tightened his grip on Trowa's and kept going.

No one came between Quatre and his friends... And the irony of that sentiment wasn't lost to the silent pilot.

The nurse motioned to him, and unconsciously fluid steps brought him to the station where Trowa was finally awarded the clearance and room number of his braided friend. He started down the corrider to the left, arms still folded in a protective position across his chest, the fluorescent light shining eerily against his clothes and skin.

He wouldn't actually say goodbye to Quatre; he'd changed his mind on that subject... It was probably better this way- a true farewell might have very well ruined the facade he'd been working so hard to maintain. Their ride together, alone... Feeling Quatre's fingers curving around his as their hands joined, catching the concerned look in those sea-green eyes and the unspoken plea for Trowa to follow him... Though the circumstance that had spurned those happenings wasn't the most ideal, those memories weren't terrible ones to keep. They would be the final ones, and they would join the multitude of others he cherished.

Already, it seemed, he was growing accustomed to the painful knot in the center of his chest- it had been flaring non-stop the entire day until he wasn't sure there was ever a time that it didn't exist within him. It seemed particularly fond of reminding him of its existence whenever he acknowledged that he would never lay eyes on Quatre again... The ache it pulsed with would dull, in--

A slight grunt was all the warning he received before an iron fist latched over the slender lines of his crossed arms, while a complimentary forearm crushed up against his throat, and Heero had him slammed up against a wall.

However disturbed Trowa was at his lack of concentration to his surroundings, and even more addled that Heero was **at** the hospital and had just attacked him, the tall pilot still managed to stare down at the other's harsh, cold eyes without flinching. He knew better than to bother struggling; one didn't get away from Heero Yuy unless the man chose to release them. Trowa's look remained nonpulssed, though his green gaze narrowed in annoyance that would have been hard to miss. "I don't recall having offended you as of late, Heero. My apologies, if I have," he stated flatly.

"I've given you time, and the price was high," Heero's growl was a monotone, his features shifting into hard lines beneath his unruly, brown locks.

Out of habit, the hand closest to his hip twitched to grab at the gun that wasn't there, and Trowa gave a slight sigh in resignation. Even if he had been armed, he doubted he could have summoned the care to actually lift it against his seemingly hostile friend. Now that the final ounces of energy and adrenaline within his system had died out, he was left with merely a bitter, empty calm. "You'll have to forgive me, but I'm in no mood for-"

Heero drew the thin acrobat back from the wall, only to slam him against it again, effectively cutting his words short. "You **will** tell him," he spoke slowly in the same unwavering tone, eyes locked with those of Trowa, twin orbs that were beginning to widen with understanding.

Trowa stared back down at Heero, his stoic features flickering momentarily through varying emotions - shock, anger, pain - before settling back into a calm that betrayed little of his thoughts. Neither moved, neither spoke; when Trowa finally did break the silence, his voice was softer, and shook. "You.. You were there, and you.. Duo..."

A short nod, and Heero had stepped back, easing the pressure of his arm against his comrade's neck, though not nearly enough to allow Trowa the freedom of movement.

Both were silent once more.

Closing his eyes, so as not to be forced to stare into the other's, Trowa breathed carefully, trying to maintain his heart rate. Was he now that inept at masking his emotions, that even Heero had figured it out? Who else could possibly know by now..?

Everything was just too much. **This** was too much! Had it been wrong of him, to simply wish for a non-confrontational end to it all? Had it been wrong of him to want nothing more than to leave everyone to what happiness awaited them, and to go **home**?

Apparently, it had. Heero Yuy, the most abrasive, enigmatic, and distant of them all, had him up against a chill, white wall, and was actually.. what? Threatening him? Insisting that the inexperienced performer attempt an act that he hadn't even had a chance to rehearse ? He almost held the desire to laugh.

Instead, he felt his lips curling in a sad smirk. "Ah. The end justifies the means, quite the Machiavellian you've shown yourself to be, time and time again. I can only hope Duo proves as understanding as I."

Trowa opened his eyes to find that the 01's gaze was darkening.

"However, I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. Contrary to what baseless beliefs you seem to be catering to, my life, my feelings, what I choose to say, and what I choose **not** to say, is none of your concern."

For one blessed moment, Trowa was certain Heero was going to strike him, strangely enough. The Japanese pilot was never so easily moved by words, in the past.

As suddenly as Heero had seemed ready to assault him, the youth had totally released him, backing up until it was clear that he wouldn't try restraining him again. "He'll forgive me. That's what you do when you care about someone. You forgive them," he said cautiously, as though the concept was still one he himself had only just recently discovered. "The same as you forgive friends for the mistakes they make."

Trowa didn't miss the distinction mentioned. Did this mean that Duo and Heero were..?

Better not to venture into that territory- he had enough on his plate without delving into the half veiled meanings contained in Heero's words. Keeping his back to the wall, the lanky pilot rubbed absently at his sore arms, studying the floor. "It's.. not a matter of being forgiven," he murmured, feeling the ache in the hollow of his chest returning full force, his stomach twisting in shame of his fear being spoken out-loud, wanting Heero to understand, so that he'd **leave** and let him--

"Third floor, Sector 2C."

"...What?"

"That's where Quatre is currently located. You have approximately thirty minutes." There was a pause. "If you don't tell him, I will."

All pretenses of collectedness, of the outwardly calm facade fell in an instant. His cheeks grew incredibly paler, dread gripping his heart and wracking his entire form with a faint tremor, as Trowa snapped his attention up at the rapidly departing form of Heero.

_If you don't tell him, I will._

There was no mistaking the fact that Heero hadn't meant informing the blonde that Duo had received clearance for visitors.

**x**

**x**

**x**

* * *

Okay, I lied. I didn't expect this last chapter to be quite so big, so I decided to break it into two parts, especially seeing that I didn't like having this part tagged onto the grand finale. 

The (real) final chapter is half completed, and will be posted as soon as it's done.

As always, I thank those of you who reviewed, and apologize for such slow updates. x.x

-**Zangai**


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